Sailing With Destiny

Dinner at Dad's 2.0

"You're quiet," I mused from the front seat as Mitchell drove to Dad's place. 

"You generally play the role of chatterbox between us." Mitchell glanced at me for a second before he looked back at the road. "I just listen."

I scoffed. "I'm not a chatterbox, you're just semi-mute."

Mitchell reached over and playfully pinched my exposed upper thigh. "You're a smartass."

"Tell me something new," I dramatically sighed. "Seriously though, are you nervous?"

Mitchell's looked at me as if I said the most preposterous thing ever. "No."

"It's okay to be nervous." I rested my hands behind my head and moved my leg to place on the seat but stopped midway with one reprimanding look from Mitchell.

"Don't worry, Dad will be more than happy to know I'm dating a mechaphilia, at least he'll know instead of me, you're pounding your ca-"

"Don't start that shit again," Mitchell cut me off with a look of disgust. 

"Or else?" I leaned closer and stared at the side of his face. "Are you going to spank me?"

Mitchell side-eyed me, shook his head, and looked back at the road. "You need more than just a spanking."

I wriggled my brows and inched even closer just to get the smell of his cologne that I loved so much. Mitchell was dressed in a black casual slightly loose-fitted shirt matched with black pants. While Mitchell was in all black, I dressed for summer in a soft pink, A-line, well-fitted floral dress that sat midthigh and had short puffed sleeves. I wore minimum makeup and kept my hair loose in its natural wavy state. 

"Aye mon coeur," I fanned my face with one hand and extended the other to play with the hair at the back of Mitchell's neck. "Estoy caliente."

"Did you just mix French and Spanish?" 

I nodded. "The way our fluids mixed when we repeatedly did the waka waka."

Mitchell's brows knitted together as he slowly looked my way with utter disgust. "Do you have to say it like that?"

I did a small shimmy and sang, "Tsamina mina, eh eh, waka wak-"

Mitchell shut me up and placed his large hand over my mouth. "Next punishment, gagging."

I stuck my tongue out and licked the inside of Mitchell's palm. "Mila, don't..." Mitchell immediately removed his hand, sighed in defeat, shook his head, and wiped his palm over his pants. "Don't do that and while you're at it, don't call me mon coer."

That's random.

"You can only have one, either I lick you or call you mon coer."

Mitchell glanced at me as if I were insane before he looked in front, extended his arm, and offered me his hand. 

I ignored his hand. "Wow, you must either love my saliva or really hate my French."

Mitchell dropped his hand to my thigh. "I find your Spanish cuter."

"Okay ma crevette, sólo hablaré español."

"Please tell me you mispronounced a word and did not just call me your shrimp."

I innocently shrugged. "No entiendo lo que dices."

Mitchell chuckled and playfully shoved his palm over my face. "You're a cute asshole."

A small part of me was a little nervous when Mitchell drove through the long driveway at Dad's place. Mandy and I told Dad to be nice, not be rude to Mitchell, and mostly not to say anything untoward about the Clarkes. I trusted he'd be polite but I also knew my father, when he didn't like someone or something, it was very evident on his face. This was the first time Mitchell and he was going to be under one roof and at the same dining table, both men didn't hide their distaste for each other but promised to do their best for my sake.